Bad for Business
by dashingthroughtheNO
Summary: Will Solace is an intensive care unit nurse. One of the things you learn from working in a hospital environment is that not everyone goes out alive. Will doesn't get used to this, but he has to do his responsibilities which include denying a dark-haired visitor's attempt to enter the room. Sometimes you look death in the eyes too many times, you start to conjure him real. A ficlet.


**Bad for Business**

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_Who are you (I should be asking you that)_is still very much alive. I just haven't got the time to get around it especially with work and my unknown pursuit for higher learning. This is a little solangelo ficlet inspired by a writing prompt I came across on Pinterest. Call it a warm-up or something.

**Disclaimer: **Percy Jackson and the Heroes of Olympians

Title is from _Vinnie Ferra's _song, "Bad for Business."

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You'd think three years of service in a critical care unit's enough to make your visceral harden from all the stress and emotional rollercoaster that does more of going down than up. Well, three years don't. Will Solace just doesn't get used to death and everything that comes before, during and after it. The whole process is heart wrenching especially on his part, being there for every patient that went under his care for twelve hours a day, twenty-eight or twenty-nine days a month. In a way, the patients have become a part of his oddly branched family. To see another go guts him more than necessary.

The shaggy blond-haired nurse watched as the patient's family filed in one by one. Their faces, contorted in a frown and red on the brink of crying. He didn't say anything as he identified them one by one. There's the wife, the daughter, two sons and of course, the elderly woman in a dark blue dress. The mother. She sobbed, her body racked with every wheeze. She held the dying man's hand, mouth opening as if to say something but ultimately, not finding the words.

Will looked at his patient. He looked ashen but, dare he think it, at peace. He had so much hope for him. He's still young. Everybody's still too young when they're dying.

He's a fighter, Will's patient. He's survived two heart attacks under his care and was revived just the same. There was a time when he thought she'd be seeing him out the hospital and into remission. He was awake, could talk and joke, but maybe he knew. He knew it wasn't going to last. That day he asked Will and his doctor to withhold any more medical care if he suddenly goes. He's tired he said. There was so much weight in those few words. It felt like there was more to it. He signed and everyone cried.

Sighing, Will and the doctor approached the patient's family. Few polite words were exchanged.

"We'll give you time to say your goodbye," the doctor told the closest of kin. They nodded a few murmured words of gratitude.

The elderly woman turned to them. She looked defeated. In her eyes was the unfathomable mother's love for her child. "Thank you, dear," she said, voice hoarse. She had a weak smile on her face and Will felt his heartbreak some more.

For eight months, Will's world revolved around this patient right before him. His family had started to become his family. They say never to get attached to your patients, but he says bull. Being a nurse doesn't only mean monitoring, assisting with treatments and keeping records of each patient but also putting your heart in every responsibility that the job calls for.

Will smiled back. It was close-lipped and almost pursed. His blue eyes glistened with unshed tears. He nodded before excusing himself out of the room; to give them more privacy and to give himself a few moments to catch his breath.

A minute passed and then another. Will rocked on his heels, his back against the ICU's double doors.

It must've been another couple of minutes when he noticed a man approach.

He's dark-haired, olive-skinned and maybe a bit lanky. He was covered with a black coat, a shirt and a pair of pants in the same depressing color. He walked with an air of confidence and a stride that seemed to convey he's got a good deal of time in his hands.

Will tried to wrack his brain if the dying patient inside had any friends or family member that looked like the man walking towards where he was. He came up with nothing. Friend or not, outside the double doors were the only place he's allowed to get as close as possible.

The man went for the door, at the same time as the elevator doors dinged open. The two hospital porters he had paged earlier finally arrived. They only needed to wait now.

"Sorry, strictly family only," Will told the man. The person in question looked at him strangely. His almond-colored eyes danced with interest and humor. A smirk began to tug at the corner of his lips. Will's skin pricked with a chill.

"You can see me?" he asked. His head cocked to the side. Strands of his midnight hair fell down his eyes.

"We know, sir," one of the porters piped. The two looked at Will oddly. Their attention solely on the blond.

A new kind of chill ran down him back. His gaze darted back to the man in front of him.

"Who…" he trailed, voice in a hush.

The smirk on the man's face then became a smile. It's a troublemaker's grin that hadn't found anything entertaining and interesting until then.

As if in slow motion, the light-haired nurse with startled blue eyes watched as a scythe, out of thin air, materialized in the man's outstretched hand.

Rocks seemed to lodge in Will's throat. The tool's curved blade glinted, light bouncing off the stark white walls.

Finally, tone full of mischief, he asked, "Are you telling Death he can't claim a soul?"

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**Thank you for giving this read your time. **I hope the rest of 2019 will be good to you and to all the people you love.


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